TUSMON VS. FETTER
“Our first Fiend’s previous fight left us begging for less. Hopefully this time he can wrap things up in a timely manner. The Irritating Investigator, Detective Tusmon! Maybe with his special eyes he can finally figure out what’s going on with our second competitor. Or maybe he’ll have his mind mawhged with just like all the others. The Mesmerizing Mime, Fetter!”
《Xard: You weren’t on the commentator list for this, Phon. Here to make sure I don’t say anything about Fetter? I’m not like Kada. I won’t slip up.》
《Phon: Oh no, it’s not that. I’m just here so everyone can hear how much I laugh when Tusmon gets absolutely wrecked. He stands no chance.》
《Xard: If you think that, did you rig the fight to make this matchup happen?》
《Phon: Nope, just bad luck for our dear detective. But it would be bad luck for almost anyone. Even if they can figure out how Fetter’s Curse works, it wouldn’t help most of them. Tusmon, of all of our remaining competitors, is probably at the biggest disadvantage. And believe it or not, Laurim would be in the best position and would probably beat him easily. But that’s enough hints for now.》
“Well, I guess that somewhat confirms my suspicions,” Tusmon immediately turned his back to his opponent, a move that would usually be one of the biggest mistakes in any other fight. But then the detective pulled a hand mirror out of his trench coat and reflected it at Fetter. “It’s obvious that your power has something to do with observing you. So let’s see if indirect sight has the same problem.”
“I’ve read your file, Fetter, and that left me with a question. You’ve already served most of your sentence, and you only have a little more than a year left. Why risk it now? When this tournament is over, the law will hunt you. Even if you turned yourself back in, returned to your cell of your own volition, they’ll extend your sentence—possibly for decades after seeing your power. Is the wish really worth it?”
In response to this quandary, Fetter started juggling—nothing visible of course, but it made someone imagine the standard balls that any performer would use.
《Phon: Uhh, how do you think he’s supposed to respond to that? His damned mouth is sewn shut and locked tight. One of the least observant detectives ever, sheesh.》
《Xard: Actually, I’m guessing that was just banter to keep them occupied while Tusmon got used to the mirror and adjusting his aim.》
“Right you are,” Tusmon whipped his gun out and fired in Fetter’s direction. It was a miss, grazing just over the man’s shoulder. “Seems I need more practice.” The detective fired more rounds. A few missed wildly, but the last one would have been a hit if Fetter hadn’t actively dodged.
The Mime was clearly annoyed by this. He’d barely reacted to the missed shots, but when he moved, he was forced to interrupt his juggling. Now Fetter looked at the ground with sad eyes, where his invisible balls had fallen in shame.
Instead of picking them back up, the man reached to his waist and unsheathed something small. Fetter then ran his finger along the invisible blade, only a few inches, making it appear no longer than a knife. The mime pricked his finger on the invisible tip and recoiled in pain, a trickle of gray blood dripping onto the stage floor.
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Fetter then began fiddling with the invisible blade like a toy, juggling with it between his fingers, occasionally throwing it up in the air while catching it, all while dodging the detective's sporadic shots. Tusmon couldn’t fire endlessly because of his altered aim, so it gave The Mime plenty of time to fool around.
But the fun quickly came to an end, and he pelted the blade at the detective. Even though Tusmon had watched this all through a mirror, which he thought might protect him, he still forced himself to dodge the knife.
《Xard: I bet Tusmon’s wondering now if he didn’t get hit because he dodged the knife or because his mirror tactic is working. Either way, he’d have no way of knowing how wide of a margin the miss was.》
《Phon: I know the answer to that, but I won’t tell. Keep struggling, Tusmon.》
Fetter had lost his weapon, or so the detective then may have thought. The Mime swiped at his hips and now acted as if he had a knife in each hand. He then flung both at Tusmon, forcing the detective to dodge once more.
But when The Investigator recuperated himself, he found his opponent much closer. Fetter flung more knives, now sprinting at his enemy. All the detective could do was continue to dodge while he desperately tried to line up a shot. But after the latest barrage, The Mime was nowhere to be found.
“What?” Tusmon desperately tilted his mirror every which way, trying to find Fetter—nowhere to be found in the entire arena. The detective whirled around, forcing himself to check with his own eyes, only to find The Mime crouched behind his back.
Fetter sprung skyward, slicing the nothing in his hand at Tusmon’s visage. The detective stumbled two steps backwards, letting out a scream of pain as he clutched at the right side of his face where a deep slash appeared, carved right through his lavender eye.
《Phon: Pahaha, saw that coming. But it’s still quite odd that Fetter would target Tusmon’s eyes of all things.》
《Xard: I guess he must see his Curse as a threat since it’s all visual based. Not that it’s helped him much so far.》
“Damnit!” Tusmon grunted as he bolted across the arena, still slightly stumbling from his impaired vision. Lavender blood poured down his hand as he tried to keep pressure on the gash. “Fine, I guess I’ll have to use it. Just remember, the knife isn’t real. If it doesn’t exist, it can’t hurt me again.”
After reassuring himself, the detective whirled around to face his opponent. And he shifted his fingers away from his injury, over to his other eye, his stone blue eye, her eye, where he pulled apart the eyelids so he could have a better view. He began his request before he even saw his foe. “I ask that you—”
Fetter hadn’t given Tusmon an inch when the detective tried to gain distance. He’d stayed right on his tail the entire time. When the man whirled around and attempted to activate his secondary Curse, The Mime was waiting, and Tusmon had only presented a more visible and obvious target.
But it wasn’t a fake knife this time. Fetter jammed a real shank right into Tusmon’s open eye. The detective crumpled, howling in pain. And The Mime just stood there, looking down at his opponent with the same sad eyes.
“Fetter wins!”
《Phon: Wow, I never expected it to be that brutal. It takes away a bit of the enjoyment but… nah, still pretty damn funny! Ahaha!》
~Unfulfilled Wish~
Tusmon: For the Fiends For Hire to reveal any and all of their current plans. Every detail.